


Sunnydale Summons

by Gemfae



Series: Harry Potter: Master of Death [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Death Has a Name, Gen, It's Malachai, Master of Death Harry Potter, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22384873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemfae/pseuds/Gemfae
Summary: When Willow attempts to summon Osiris to bring Buffy back, she expected an ancient Egyptian god. Instead, she's confronted by a young guy with messy dark hair, brilliant green eyes, and an attitude. Willow has never heard of the Master of Death, but she's determined to rescue Buffy from Hell by any means necessary.Harry Potter became the Master of Death after collecting all the Hallows. Unfortunately, that title comes with responsibilities... and the inconvenience of random summonings to different realities/dimensions.
Relationships: Tara Maclay/Willow Rosenberg, Xander Harris/Anya Jenkins
Series: Harry Potter: Master of Death [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1611316
Comments: 10
Kudos: 205





	1. Willow

“…Release Her!”  
As Willow spoke the last word of the spell, the night fell silent. Willow glanced at Tara on her left, then Xander and Anya on her right; the three looked back at her expectantly, and Willow had to avert her gaze. Why didn’t the ritual work? She did everything she was supposed to, followed the ritual verbatim! Was it because she had translated the spell into English? Maybe if she repeated the ritual in its’ original language, there was still a little bit of the blood mixture in the urn…  
Before she could suggest trying the ritual again, several things happened at once. The candles her friends held all went out, the sky turned pitch black, and lightning struck the grave in front of them. Willow cried out, covering her eyes, and was vaguely aware of her friends doing the same.  
When the lightning stopped, Willow forced her eyes open, and saw a figure concealed in a black hooded cloak facing away from her, staring at Buffy’s grave marker. After a moment, the figure turned around, but all Willow could see was that the being was somewhat short, around Dawn’s height, and had bright green eyes.  
“Why have you summoned me, Mortal?” The being-Osiris? Willow decided she would think of him as Osiris, to stave off the confusion- asked, in a surprisingly young voice.  
“Osiris, Keeper of the Gate,” Willow said respectfully, “I have summoned you to bring back a lost soul. Buffy Summers does not deserve an eternity in Hell; she sacrificed her life to save the world. She was a soldier for the Greater Good and-”  
“Give me a break,” Osiris scoffed, and Willow was shocked into silence, “The good of the many at the expense of the few? Like I haven’t heard that line a thousand times before.”  
Osiris fell silent for a moment, and Willow felt as if those glowing green eyes were peering into her very soul. His gaze made her nervous and ashamed, as she remembered sitting in the sunlit meadow, her pure white dress stained with innocent blood. She didn’t know why she was so worried about his judgement-it was his ritual that required innocent blood. When Osiris let out a dark chuckle, Willow jumped, and she felt her friends standing close behind her, Tara’s slim hand slipping into her own for comfort.  
“Oh, you dare summon me, witch?” Osiris demanded, “By what right?”  
“By the blessing of Hecate, Mother of witches,” Willow replied, “I fight against the darkness-”  
“Darkness is not the same as evil,” Osiris interrupted, “If you were truly in tune with the natural world, you would know this. But you-you have fallen off the path of so-called ‘goodness’. You, Willow Rosenberg, are well on your way to becoming an abomination.”  
“Hey!” Xander stepped in front of Willow, drawing Osiris’ attention to him, “Willow is not an abomination! Willow is the nicest, sweetest girl in the world! Who are you to come here calling us names?”  
“I am here because I was summoned,” Osiris snapped, letting the hood of his cloak fall back so they could finally see his face. Osiris had the appearance of a guy in his late teens or early twenties, with messy dark hair, alabaster skin, and-oddly- a pair of round, black glasses framing his bright emerald eyes.  
“If you didn’t want to know the truth, perhaps you shouldn’t have summoned me,” Osiris continued, glaring at Xander until he took a step back. The green-eyed god of death then cast a sly glance at Willow, “Why, Miss Rosenberg, you’ve been keeping secrets! Come now, don’t you think your friends deserve to know just how far you’ve gone in your quest to resurrect the fallen Slayer?” Osiris glanced at the other people standing on top of the grave, “Did any of you even think to ask what, exactly, ‘vino de madre’ is?”  
“Willow wouldn’t do anything that was truly dark-or evil,” Tara said confidently, and Willow felt a rush of love for her girlfriend.  
“Willow is too much of a goody-goody to dabble in the really evil stuff,” Anya agreed, “I mean, I’m surprised she even wanted to do this ritual. Do you know how much money we had to pay for your urn, by the way? I really hope it has a good resale value. Of course, we’ll have to clean it first, but-”  
“Anya, Honey?” Xander interrupted, “Wrong time, wrong place. Worry about the resale value of the urn after Osiris here leaves, okay?”  
“Fine,” Anya huffed, crossing her arms.  
“By the way, death-guy,” Xander glared at Osiris again, “Even if Willow did have to cross over to the dark side a little, it’s your own fault; this is your ritual.”  
“You are very amusing,” Osiris commented, tilting his head to the side, “And your faith in your friend is touching, even if it is misplaced. As for the ritual, it was not designed by me; it was designed by worshippers in ancient times, back when sacrifice was considered the norm. Nowadays, most gods don’t require-”  
“Stop it,” Willow commanded, her voice deepening with power, “You were not called forth to make judgements on us; you were called forth to right a wrong, and return a fallen soldier. Now, do my bidding!” Wind blew around Willow, fanning her red hair around her face like flames. The god before her was unimpressed.  
“Um, how about no?” Osiris replied, “First of all, I don’t take orders-not from you or anyone. Second of all, if you read the ritual through, you would know that I will not return the dead to life unless I find both the deceased and the petitioner worthy.” Osiris looked at the group of people once more. First, his eyes rested on Tara, and his expression visible softened. “You, Tara, are worthy. You are too good for this world. Your reasons for agreeing to this ritual are pure.” Emerald gaze flitted over to Anya, and his lips twitched upwards in a smirk, “You, too, are worthy, Anya. Yes, I have seen your past, but I also see who you have become, and the good you are trying to do.” Xander was the next to have his soul examined by the god-like being. “Xander Harris…yes, you are worthy.” Osiris frowned, looking between Xander and Anya, “Don’t let your doubts and fears rule you.” Green eyes turned back to Willow, and she felt herself stiffen.  
“I have already passed your tests,” Willow tried to prevent Osiris from telling her friends what she had done; it was required for the ritual, but she could tell that Osiris didn’t approve-and she knew her friends wouldn’t approve either. Willow didn’t want to watch Tara’s warm brown eyes fill with disgust, “Now, bring her back!”  
“You will cease ordering me around!” Willow shrank back when Osiris shouted, green eyes flashing as lightning struck the ground nearby, “I am not here to do your bidding! You, Willow Rosenberg, have been found unworthy! Your intentions are purely selfish, and you have already sacrificed one innocent life pursuing your selfish desire to return your friend to life! Tell me, Willow Rosenberg, how far are you willing to fall in order to assuage your guilt?”  
“What innocent?” Tara’s question went unanswered, Osiris’ attention focused solely on the red-haired witch now.  
“I-it’s not guilt!” Willow protested, “Buffy doesn’t deserve-”  
“Doesn’t deserve-what?” Osiris interrupted, “Rest? Peace? She gave her life to save this world, why is that not enough? Why must you drag her back to continue fighting this battle? There are other Slayers, other warriors-her time is done!”  
“NO!” Willow shouted, she could feel darkness under her skin as the wind whipped through the graveyard, “Buffy does not-she DOES NOT! Deserve to spend eternity in Hell! If you won’t bring her back, I’ll find someone who will!”  
“Hell?” Osiris scoffed, “Buffy Summers is not in Hell! You know this, witch; I know you did the scrying spells before summoning me.”  
“I-yes, but they didn’t work,” Willow replied, her power faltering as she felt the blood drain from her face-what she saw couldn’t be true; Willow couldn’t have gone through all this for nothing. She shook her head and gathered her power back around her, and only faltered a little when she spoke again, “I-the spells only showed Buffy with Joyce and-”  
“That’s because she is with Joyce,” Osiris interrupted once again, “After all that you have seen, did you really think that The Powers That Be would let Buffy spend eternity in Hell? As soon as that portal was closed, Buffy’s soul was taken to Heaven. She has done her part, and deserves peace.”  
“No, please,” Willow’s voice was small, and she felt tears burning in her eyes, “Please, Osiris…we need her. Buffy is-she holds us all together. You have to bring her back.”  
“See, there’s that selfishness of yours again,” Osiris said, but his voice was gentle this time, “Losing a loved one is hard; I understand. If Buffy was in Hell, I would gladly bring her back for you, but she’s not in Hell. Buffy has earned her place in Heaven, and I won’t take that from her. You still have your lover and your friends; celebrate Buffy’s life, mourn her death, and start to heal. I’m sorry, there’s nothing more I can do for you.”  
“Liar!” Willow accused, her voice a low growl, “You could bring her back, but you won’t! Even though I need her-we need her-you won’t bring her back!” Willow straightened to her full height, drawing her power around her like a cloak. “If you won’t use your power to bring her back, I’ll take it and use it myself!” Willow focused all her magic on the being, arms outstretched to reach though his body and pull his magic into her, but Osiris simply raised his hand and sent a blast of power at her, knocking her to the ground.  
“You dare to attack me?” Osiris thundered, his magic creating a sphere that kept Willow’s friends from coming to her aid, “I am older and more powerful than any being you have ever encountered! I am old enough that my true name has been lost to time! Osiris is but one name of many I answer to! I am called Osiris, Hades, Hel, and Death-but none of those are who I truly am! I am not death, nor am I a pagan god-I am the Master of Death, and you cannot destroy me! With a single thought, I can rip your soul from your body and send you from this world!”  
“Please!” Willow heard Tara crying, and Osiris-or the Master of Death, as he called himself, glanced up to where the other witch was pressing against the barrier, “Please, Master of Death! Don’t take her from us! Don’t take her from me! I know-I know she’s done things she shouldn’t have, but…please!”  
Willow felt the Master’s power drop away from her, and she took a deep shuddering breath.  
“For the sake of your friends, I spare your life,” the Master of Death told her, “And I will even give you a warning, free of charge. The path you walk is not only dark, but dangerous. You are delving deep into the magic, venturing into realms mortals are better off avoiding. Magic is a gift, but it is also a crutch-and it can cause immeasurable harm. If you continue down this path, I see danger-death, destruction, and possibly the end of the world. Listen to your friends-do not let the magic control you.”  
Osiris took a step back and pulled his hood back up.  
“I am needed elsewhere. If you call on me again, make sure your motives are pure-next time I will not be so understanding.” With another flash of lightning, the Master of Death was gone, and Willow was left lying on top of her best friend’s grave.  
When she looked up, Xander and Anya were staring at her in shock-well, Xander was shocked; Anya looked curious. Tara though-Tara’s warm brown eyes were filled with disappointment, and Willow couldn’t stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks. Xander and Anya turned away, not saying a word to her, but instead seeking comfort in one another.  
Willow hung her head, but then she felt movement near her and a warm arm wrapped around her shoulders. Her silent tears turned to violent sobs, and Willow leaned into Tara’s embrace. She cried out her anger, frustration and guilt; she cried for Buffy, who was dead, and Dawn, who lost her sister. She cried for betraying her friends’ trust, and she cried for the fawn she killed-the innocent life she had stolen, whose blood was smeared across her forehead and cheeks. As the sky began to lighten and the stars faded, Willow cried, and Tara held her, offering love and forgiveness that she didn’t deserve.


	2. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike helps Dawn summon a being known as the Master of Death to try and bring Buffy back. They were prepared to meet an all-powerful being, and are surprised to instead be hosting a polite British man with a love for treacle tart. When Dawn asks the not-so-scary being to bring her sister back, the Master of Death gives her startling news and Dawn must make a difficult decision.

Dawn sat on the couch, pretending to watch TV, while anxiously counting down the minutes.

“Alright, Nibblet,” Spike said, walking out of the kitchen, “Everything is ready; I’ve got it all set up in the kitchen.”

“And you’re sure this will work?” Dawn asked, biting her bottom lip, “I mean, it’s not going to be like the last time, with Mom, right?”

“I’m sure,” Spike replied, “I did all the research; checked with some witches across the pond even. This ritual won’t bring the Slayer back, but it will summon someone who has the power to bring her back. You plead your case, he judges your worth, and decides whether or not to grant your request.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” Dawn asked, following Spike back into the kitchen, “I mean, I cheated on a math test, will that count against me?”

“The way I understand it, this bloke doesn’t sweat the small stuff,” Spike told her, “If he did, I wouldn’t be going anywhere near the bugger. Now, lore says this guy likes his food, so we’ve got refreshments, and the ritual circle. Remember, the ritual doesn’t trap him; the symbolic circle is just like a homing beacon, to make sure he doesn’t land on top of someone. Be respectful-remember he can kill us with a thought, so don’t make the bugger mad.”

“In that case, shouldn’t you stop calling him a bugger?” Dawn raised an eyebrow, and Spike smirked in reply, before pulling out his lighter and picking up a small sachet of herbs. He lit the sachet on fire, then dropped it in the silver bowl on the table. The herbs caught and smoke flowed from the bowl.

“Really?” Dawn looked up from the bowl to see a guy who appeared to be around twenty sitting in the chair across from her. The guy had dark, messy hair, and green eyes behind round black glasses. He was wearing a black cloak with the hood pushed back, and looked slightly annoyed.

“Two summonings in the same town, on the same night? That’s a record even for me. Oooh! Is that treacle tart?” Green eyes lit up, and Dawn wondered if they got the right guy; he didn’t seem super powerful or otherworldly.

“Fresh made,” Spike said, “This nice little old lady in town makes it once a week. Tea, mate?” He gestured to the tea set, which Dawn knew had been stolen from Giles.

“Cheers,” the newcomer replied, accepting a cup of tea with a grin, “Don’t suppose you have any sugar cubes?”

“Um no cubes,” Dawn said nervously, “We do have sugar though.” She pushed the ceramic sugar bowl towards him, and the guy accepted it with another grin.

“Have to say, you are much nicer than the other lot who summoned me,” the guy said, “Mind if I eat a slice before we get down to business?”

“That’s what it’s there for, mate,” Spike said, “By the way, do you have a name you prefer to go by? It might get a bit awkward calling you Master of Death all the time.”

“Yeah, that can be a bit annoying,” the guy said, taking a large bite of treacle tart, “You can call me Harry. You guys want some?”

Dawn helped herself to a piece of the dessert, but Spike settled for a cup of tea infused with whatever type of blood he was currently drinking-which, ew! Dawn supposed she should be used to the whole blood-thing by now, but it still squicked her a little. Harry-and she wondered why he chose that name, but decided it wasn’t really important-didn’t even bat an eye when Spike added the blood to his tea.

The three ate in companionable silence, and Dawn was grateful to realize that Harry wasn’t nearly as frightening as she thought the Master of Death would be.

“So, thanks again for the snack,” Harry said, pushing his empty plate away, “Now, you two never did introduce yourselves.”

“Name’s Spike,” Spike said.

“Oh! I’ve heard of you!” Harry said excitedly, “You were a right deadly bugger, back in the day! Kept Mal and the reapers-Mal is short for Malachai, of course-quite busy for a hundred years or so. And you were so creative, too! It’s a pity you never made it down to Hell; I know a demon or two who would have loved to learn from you.”

“Well, it’s always nice to be appreciated,” Spike preened, and Dawn rolled her eyes.

“Who’s Malachai?” She asked, and Harry blinked in surprise.

“Oh, well, it was awkward calling him “Death” all the time,” Harry said, “So I suggested he choose a name, and he was partial to Malachai. Speaking of names…”

“I’m Dawn,” Dawn said, “And, um, Spike found the ritual, but I was the one who wanted to call you.”

“Well, I suppose we had better get down to business then,” Harry sighed, “So, what’s their name, and are they dead or dying?”

“My sister,” Dawn said, “She’s dead, and-she sacrificed herself to close a hell portal. It should have been me, but she jumped instead, and I overheard Willow talking, and she said that now Buffy’s stuck in a hell dimension. It’s-she doesn’t deserve that.”

“Ah, I should have guessed,” Harry murmured, “Look, Dawn, I’m sorry. I mentioned I was summoned earlier tonight?” Dawn nodded. “Well, it was your witch friend Willow. I already told her, Buffy isn’t in a hell-verse. Buffy has done too much good in her life; what you lot refer to as The Powers That Be grabbed her soul before it got pulled into the hell dimension.”

“Oh,” Dawn said softly, not knowing how to react. It was good that Buffy wasn’t in hell, but did that mean Harry couldn’t bring her back? It felt wrong to be disappointed that Buffy wasn’t in hell, but Dawn couldn’t help it.

“Okay, what does that have to do with anything?” Spike demanded, “I’m glad she’s not in hell, but she’s still dead, and her death wasn’t natural; you can bring her back.” Harry gave Spike a narrow-eyed glance, then focused his attention back on Dawn.

“Dawn,” he said musingly, “I heard about you, a few months back. This hell-portal-thing; there was some goddess-bitch trying to destroy the world right? And she needed you for something.”

“Yeah, Glory,” Dawn said nervously, “Um, she wasn’t really trying to destroy the world; she wanted to go back to her hell-dimension, and destroying the world was just a side-effect. She-I wasn’t always human.”

“Really?” Harry tilted his head and examined her curiously, “Hmm, now that you mention it, I can see that this body is new for you. Your spirit though, your spirit is old. There is still a sense of…some sort of mystical power around you. You’re normal now, though; the mystical energy is just an echo of what might have been.”

“Really?” Dawn asked, surprised at the relief those words gave her, “I’m really just a normal teenager now?”

“As far as I can tell,” Harry returned her smile easily, then frowned, “Dawn…look, I know losing a loved one is difficult, but why are you so desperate to get your sister back?”

“She’s the only family I have left,” Dawn answered, “I mean, I have Dad, I guess, but he really hasn’t been a big part of my life in recent years. Which, considering this body is only a year old, means he’s never actually been there for me. Willow and Tara do their best to take care of me, and Xander and Anya-well, Xander, at least, helps. Anya is…she tries. Spike gives me an escape when I just can’t pretend everything is alright anymore, but…I need Buffy. And not just me, either; Sunnydale needs her. We’re on top of a Hellmouth, and we don’t have a Slayer anymore.” Dawn paused, then admitted, “Although, I don’t really care too much about the Hellmouth-thing. I know I should, but I don’t; I just want my sister back.”

“Even if that means pulling her back into the fight?” Harry asked, “Even if she is happy, and peaceful in Heaven?” Spike started to answer, but one glance from Harry’s glowing eyes made him subside.

“I-no,” Dawn whispered, defeated, “I miss Buffy, and I want her with me, but…she’s done so much for me already. If she’s really happy, I can’t pull her back here, no matter how much I want to.” Dawn fought back the tears, and glanced at Harry to see he was beaming at her.

“Well, then; that’s that,” Harry said, standing and clapping his hands, “I guess I’ll just pop into Heaven then, shall I?”

“Wait-what?” Dawn asked confused, “I thought-”

“You passed the test,” Harry told her, “I can’t promise to bring your sister back, but I will go to Heaven and give her the choice to return. Even if she chooses to stay in Heaven, I can at least bring her back for a few minutes so you can have a proper good-bye. So, I’ll be right back!” Harry walked over to the back door and opened it, revealing a tunnel of darkness. With a smile and a wink, he stepped into that darkness and vanished, the door closing behind him. Dawn shared a look with Spike, but they didn’t have a chance to discuss what just happened, because the door was already opening again.

Harry entered the kitchen, still smiling, holding the hand of-

“Buffy!” Dawn cried, taking a hesitant step towards her sister.

“Dawn,” Buffy replied, smiling; she held her arms out, and Dawn rushed to her. Buffy’s arms wrapped around her protectively, and Dawn broke down into tears, clutching at her sister with no intentions of ever letting go.

“Shh, Dawn,” Buffy said, “It’s okay; I’m here. I’m back, and I’ll take care of you. I’m so sorry I left you, but everything will be okay now.”

The sisters clung to each other for a few more minutes; when Dawn finally started to calm down, they sat at the table, close enough so that Dawn could lean against her big sister.

“Slayer,” Spike greeted Buffy; he was going for casual, but Dawn could hear the relief in his voice, “It’s about time you came back. You know they had me babysitting the Little Bit on Fridays?”

“It’s good to see you too, Spike,” Buffy said, “Thanks for looking after Dawn like I asked. And thanks for getting Harry to bring me back.”

“Oh, sure,” Harry piped up from where he was helping himself to another piece of treacle tart, “Thank the vampire. I never get any appreciation. This is a lovely tart, though.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Dawn said gratefully, and the Master of Death gave her a thumbs up, his mouth full of treacle tart.

At that moment, the back door opened and Willow walked in, followed by Tara, Xander and Anya. All four looked as if they had been tossed around, but Willow looked the worst. Before Dawn could comment on their appearance, Willow spoke, her eyes focused on Harry.

“You!” Willow said accusingly, pointing at the green-eyed man, “What are you doing here?” Her gaze travelled around the table, then rested on Buffy; rather than look happy, however, Willow appeared angry. “Dawn, did you do this? What did you do? Summoning Osiris is dark magic! Do you know how dangerous that was?”

“I didn’t summon Osiris,” Dawn scoffed, “I summoned the Master of Death, using a ritual that Spike found. There was nothing dark about it; all we needed was a few herbs and an offering of food.”

“Yeah, Red,” Spike looked at Willow with narrowed eyes, “We didn’t do anything dark. Perhaps, though, you’d like to explain why you’re walking around with blood on your face?” Spike walked around the table and stopped in front of Willow, drawing a finger through the blood on her forehead and then licking it, “Oh, and that’s innocent blood there, luv; fawn’s blood, if I’m not mistaken.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Willow protested, “I bought this on the black market; I just got what the ritual said I needed-his ritual.” She pointed at Harry, and the brunet rolled his eyes.

“You’re just pissy because I wouldn’t raise your friend when you asked,” he said, “Well, lucky you, I brought her back anyway. So, I guess my work here is done. Spike, if you’re ever in London, look me up; like I said, I know a couple demons who’d love to have a chat with William the Bloody. Dawn, it was nice meeting you. Buffy-try not to die again anytime soon. Hey, do you mind if I take the rest of this with me?”

“Go right ahead, mate,” Spike said, “Bought it for you, after all.”

“Wait a minute!” Xander interrupted, “Why-you yelled at us, so why are you being all best-buddy-like with Spike? He’s a vampire!”

“And?” Harry shrugged, “I don’t have a problem with vampires, as long as they aren’t trying to destroy the world.”

“But why do you like him better than us?” Anya asked, “He’s evil.”

“He’s interesting,” Harry countered, then rushed to add, “Not that you aren’t interesting, Anya; I was impressed with some of your work back in the day too. Besides, he’s not evil anymore.”

“You wouldn’t bring Buffy back when I asked,” Willow said, “Why did you do it for Dawn? She didn’t even use the right ritual!”

“Actually, there is no “right” ritual,” Harry corrected, “I have many names, as I told you before. I actually prefer the one Dawn and Spike used; I’m not into the whole sacrificial-thing. As for why I brought Buffy back when Dawn asked, it’s simple; she was nice about it. Oh, and she had tea and treacle tart for me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m running late. Cheers!” Harry grabbed the plate with the remaining treacle tart on it and vanished.

The kitchen was silent for a moment, then Buffy asked, “Where’s Giles?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end...for now! I hope to have Harry visit more realities/universes later on, and maybe do a short story of him becoming the Master of Death and meeting Death/Malachai, but this is it for now. Hope you all enjoyed it!


End file.
